


All That A Werewolf Needs To Say

by officiallymarooned



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Past references, Set after Season 2, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-22
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 18:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/officiallymarooned/pseuds/officiallymarooned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek learns to trust Stiles, with a little help from his uncle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That A Werewolf Needs To Say

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of the very first fanfiction I have ever written, so please don't be appalled if you find it cringe-worthy. I just thought I'd share this now because I recently stumbled across it and thought it'd be a waste to let it rot any further.

_The course of a person's life is not always predetermined. Over the passage of a lifetime's journey, we may not always want the same things we once did. We deviate from our plans, alter them as our expectations and priorities change. Sometimes we make completely arbitrary decisions that transform our lives forever. They say it's never too late to make amends. To start living._

_And yet sometimes the outcomes of entire lives are affected by the events of a time in the past so long ago it feels like the memories that linger belong to someone else._

Derek remained standing silently by the window a long time that night. Thoughts, memories, emotions all kept churning inside him until he could almost feel the ground slipping beneath his feet. After the recent events with Jackson, Matt and Gerard he could not help feeling more and more drained each day. And that did not even include Peter's unexpected return. So much had changed in such a short time and he could feel it coming. No, he knew it. An impending sense of doom and dread that he knew did not bear origin from any of his enhanced werewolf senses. Something huge was coming and he knew that if they made it through, their lives would never be the same again. But were they strong enough to weather the storm?

And yet, despite himself, amidst everything, he could not contain that tiny almost imperceptible jitter within him from manifesting itself on his hardened visage in the shape on an even more imperceptible smile. Yes, a smile, or just the promise of one that played tentatively at the corners of his clenched mouth.

No, he muttered under his breath. He knew all too well what this meant. What the outcome would be. And yet, he could not help himself. He let out a steady stream of breathless incoherent curses and looked out the window at the woods that stretched on and on from where the now dilapidated Hale house stood.

He could remember it vividly in his head as the memories played out like an all-too-well-rehearsed play. It had tormented him for years. Even now with its main antagonist forever removed from the picture the memories had a life of their own. And there she continued to haunt and torture him.

Yes, there had indeed been a time once so long ago when he could effortlessly slip into Scott's shoes. He let out an almost disgusted snicker and for a second turned away from the window before looking out at the dark edge of the woods again. He knew exactly what Scott was feeling right now. And for this very reason he had tried to dissuade the boy from the Argent girl on so many occassions. Argent. He could almost see history repeating itself but he knew that Scott would not listen now. Because, damn it, he had once felt the same too.

And then now there was of course the boy, Scott's best friend. He muttered a curse again. That brat who always had a quirky remark to everything. The very one who had no clue right now how in another lifetime they had once crossed paths at the juncture of two separate pivotal moments in their lives. And moved on only to meet again. Completely oblivious.

Strangers, yet not quite.

Derek remembered almost through a thick haze. Two men. One quite young, the other much older, but sharing the same emotion-fear. A woman. He could smell the stench of the sickness. He had watched as they got into a car. Nothing struck him then but somehow the memory had lingered. Of two nameless men as their world collapsed around them. Trembling even as the woman slowly slipped away from their desperate grasps.

Memories that had somehow hidden themselves in some dark recess of his mind bared themselves now. Years ago when he was being blatantly deceived by a certain Argent, some things had been deemed too insignificant to be considered. But they had remained with him despite. How he had betrayed everyone! And then came the final blow when he found that he had failed to protect even Laura. A strange mixture of rage and despair threatened to simmer up and he forced it back. To wherever it had originated.

Water. And that voice. How he had convinced himself that it would last forever. And she had assured him in his madness. Because she had known exactly what to tell him. And he had lapped it all up only too eagerly.

Kate Argent. She who had used him and completely obliterated his world. This is where he had only too eagerly betrayed everyone he loved. This is where he had fooled himself into thinking in terms of eternity. This is where he had once fallen in love.

How so very ironically funny that he should, after all these years, have found himself helpless, paralysed from the neck down, in the very pool where he had once given his heart away to the devil. Helpless again. Except this time he would not be allowed to sink. Drown.

This boy again. Stiles, was it?

Who refused to let him go. Who begged him to trust him. Begged him.

Trust.

Was he even capable of trust again after all this time?

Stiles, you don't know.

There was a dull ache in his heart.

Maybe in another place, another time, another life.

"Cruel world, huh?"

He jumped at the voice. So engrossed had he been in his thoughts that he had completely let down his guard. Which did not go unnoticed. By Peter.

"Interesting..." Peter observed and booked himself a place next to Derek to enjoy the show outside. "Worried?"

Then he added : "I'd be," in a tone Derek could not quite pinpoint but fell somewhere between genuine idle talk and intentional provocation.

When Derek made no attempt to respond, Peter let out a small exasperated sigh and began: "Derek, you and I are the only family left. Talk to me. What's on you mind?"

"Oh, let me see!" Derek shot back. "Between that bitch murdering my family and you killing Laura, I don't see why I'm even tolerating your presence right now!"

"Let me help. You know you need me in this war," said Peter, raising a querying eyebrow, completely ignoring Derek's rant.

Derek knew that Peter was right. This was a war he could never win on his own.

"The ties that bind the pack will be more than tested in the coming days, Derek," said Peter, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall, his gaze sweeping across the interior of the house. "Sometimes the most amazing things happen when you have been completely broken. Sometimes," he walked toward the stairs that led down to the hall, "you need to build your life back up from scratch."

Derek turned toward his uncle with a slightly puzzled look. Peter gave a nod and motioned Derek to follow him. They walked out to the porch in silence.

"Trust," Peter said simply and turned to look at Derek, earning him a slightly annoyed look.

"Well?"

"The pack, Derek!" Peter exclaimed as though he had just uttered the most obvious thing in the world. "Your pack. We need you and you need us. But you need to let go first."

"Of what?" Derek snapped, his annoyance clearly growing.

"Stop living in the past. As an alpha you need to understand this more than anyone. You need to move on. It's time to-"

Their eyes met and Derek felt that a lot had been conveyed in that moment though he could not say exactly what.

"Open up your heart," Peter finished after what seemed like an eternity had passed. "You can't continue asking people to trust you when your own heart is consumed by suspicion and doubt. How can you even lead your pack into battle if you can't bring yourself to trust them?"

Derek dug his hands deep into his jeans pockets and stared into the darkness, his mind in turmoil.

"I know it is difficult," Peter continued, "and I don't expect you to be able to open up to everyone overnight. But..." His voice trailed off as their eyes met again.

"There must be someone?"

Derek felt his heart pick up pace at that. Which did not go unnoticed to his uncle who immediately perked up suddenly.

"There you go!" Peter exclaimed, clapping Derek on the shoulder. Derek shrugged the hand off. "Alright, so that's a good start. Tell this person everything that is in your heart. Let it out. You need to learn to trust again."

"I don't think I can," said Derek in a whisper, talking more to himself than to Peter.

"I'm not saying it will be easy," said Peter, nodding. "But I know you can. You have to. Or you will live in pain, anger, despair and loneliness all your life."

Derek looked to his uncle with a pained expression and gave a small nod. They stood out in the open air for a long time before Peter turned to leave.

"Any chance of me knowing who this person might be?" he quipped turning on his heels.

"You made your point. Now can I please be left alone?" Derek retorted, looking crossed and annoyed.

"Fine, just curious," smirked Peter and he was gone.

Stiles.

He didn't know whether to be frustrated or annoyed with himself. Peter's words still rang in his head like a clear bell. Determination and fear alternated within him as a war waged inside his head. The painful memory of Kate was still etched on his mind. Everytime he thought about opening up to that one person it was like she came back from the grave to remind him of all the things that could go wrong.

As he sank to the earth trembling, a sharp piercing sound brought him back to his senses. It took a few seconds for his brain to register that he had received a text.

Peter: Let your heart decide. And btw, I have a guess of who that person might be. ;)

Derek smirked and put his phone back in his pocket. And asked himself, for the first time, honestly. The answer was so clear he stood up shocked and elated at the same time. Within seconds he was scrambling into his car and speeding away as Peter looked on from an upstairs window and smiled.

Minutes later he was perched precauriously on a tiled roof and inching his way toward a closed window. Stiles was still awake but the curtain was drawn so he couldn't make out much. Slowly he made his way closer and gave a small knock on the windowpane, his werewolf heart hammering so thunderously inside his rip-cage he feared it might burst out. He gave a harder, more prolonged knock when Stiles did not open the window. Immediately there was the shuffling of feet and the curtain was drawn open, revealing Stiles wearing a white T-shirt and boxers, and looking utterly shocked.

Open, Derek mouthed when Stiles stood there staring, speechless. Snapped out of his bewilderment, Stiles awkwardly fumbled with the latch before pulling the window open and Derek leapt in noiselessly.

"What the hell are you doing here, Derek?" Stiles demanded, arms raised and waving aimlessly in the air. "Do you even know what time it is now?"

"Uh...I think it's a little after 1..."

"So...?" Stiles said in a tone that implied that one drawn-out syllable stood for the entire barage of words that would otherwise have been uttered.

"Please," said Derek, taking a step forward and gazing down at his feet. "I need to talk to you."

Derek's eyes were now almost pleading and a strange emotion flickered across them. Stiles opened his mouth but no words came out. He had never seen Derek like this before.

"Okay..." he said at last, his voiced tinged with uncertainty. "What did you wanna talk about?"

Stiles sat down on the bed and Derek occupied the swivelling chair. Both looked equally nervous, their eyes meeting only momentarily before drifting apart abruptly.

"Uh...would you like something to drink?" Stiles offered hesitantly. This felt so weird, considering all their previous encounters had been under either life-threatening situations or a generally one-sided physical abuse.

"Water," came the curt reply and Stiles quickly escaped downstairs to the kitchen.

Both were wallowing in varying degrees of dread and trepidation. As Derek paced around the room trying to collect his thoughts and himself, Stiles took his time fetching the water trying to make sense of the whole situation. When he finally reached the door to his room, glass in hand, he took a deep breath and slowly pushed it open. Derek stood there, just inside, looking even more nervous than before. He stepped inside with a sigh but stopped in his tracks.

"Stiles?"

He turned to face Derek slowly and breathed: "Yes?"

Stiles watched nervously as Derek swallowed.

"Can I trust you?"

Confusion flooded his brain and obviously overflowed into his face judging from the look on Derek's face. Why was Derek asking him this all of a sudden? He struggled to reply and Derek's face crumbled in front of his eyes. All the uncertainty and nervousness vanished only to be replaced by a look of utter defeat. Hopelessness.

"Derek..." Stiles whispered, taking a step forward and placing a hand gently on Derek's shoulder. "You can trust me. You can always trust me."

Derek's face lit up at that. Stiles was surprised to see him smiling.

"Why are you so happy all of a sudden?" Stiles probed, handing Derek his water before slumping down on the bed, eyeing him with suspicion the whole time.

Derek simply shrugged and sat back down on the chair. "Thank you," he said, smiling and placed the empty glass on the table behind him.

"What for?" asked Stiles incredulously.

Derek only smiled and cleared his throat to begin. Now he was certain he had made the right choice.


End file.
